


Feel the Tension, Baby

by rippedoutgrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedoutgrace/pseuds/rippedoutgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith gets more than just a good massage when he visits masseur!Benny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel the Tension, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkarians/gifts).



> Just cross-posting from [my blog](http://theabaddons.tumblr.com)
> 
> Short little shameless PWP written for Deb!

"You’re really tight."

Dean grunts as Benny hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Bending over a desk all day will do that to you,” he laughs. 

Benny’s hands are just this side of rough and the friction feels heavenly on Dean’s shoulders, the way smoothed with a slippery oil that makes Dean think he’s probably glistening in the low light. He keeps breaking out into goosebumps, despite the warmth of the room. 

Probably because he’s naked under the thin sheet covering his ass. And maybe because this Benny guy is all sorts of hot and Dean’s spent the last ten minutes staring at the floor through the padded opening for his face trying desperately not to moan like a porn star. 

"You alright there? Pressure okay?" He hears Benny ask him, all professional and concerned. "You’ve been a little quiet."

"Oh, yeah, I was just uh, thinking how good it felt."

Benny chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

And that’s a good an opening as any, and Dean opens his mouth to get into some suggestive banter, but what comes out is a high pitched squeak. 

Benny immediately backs off from stroking down Dean’s sides. “Ticklish?” he asks, and Dean can tell he’s trying to not laugh. 

"A little, sorry." He’s glad his face is hidden because he knows it’s bright red. 

"Not a problem. I’ll just move on."

And a soft flutter of fabric and a cool breeze on his ass informs him that his left cheek is now exposed. “Oh,” Benny murmurs. 

"What?" He can’t turn his head in this damn thing so his ears are straining to hear. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing wrong, brother. You just. You have freckles."

A light finger traces the constellations of tiny freckles that are smattered all over both sides of his ass. Dean’s enjoying it  _a lot_  when the finger stops and Benny’s stumbling over apologies. 

This time Dean levers himself up on his elbows to turn and look at Benny. “I  _really_  didn’t mind,” he reassures, dropping a small wink in for good measure. 

He settles back down and waits. 

The hands are back and they’re gripping his ass not quite painfully, but enough to where he hopes he might have red finger marks left over. This time Benny knows how much he’s enjoying it with all the moans and  _mmm_ 's that seem to claw their way out of his throat without his permission. 

The sheet disappears and Dean’s completely bare on the table. He spreads his legs a little in invitation and he’s not disappointed when he hears the whispered swear from behind him. The fingers dig in to the muscle and tissue again, but this time he can feel the hints of cool air on his exposed hole. 

An oiled finger strokes it carefully and he clenches in surprise, relaxes, and spreads his legs further.  _Finally, this is getting good_ , he thinks. 

The tip of a finger dips in and he moans his appreciation. A tip becomes one finger up to the thick knuckle, one becomes two. 

He’s expecting a third as he rubs his cock against the padded table, needing friction and pressure. A third finger doesn’t happen though. He’s pretty sure by the rough scratch of a beard that it’s Benny’s tongue and  _yes_  he is so, so okay with this. He experimentally pushes back onto Benny’s face and the groans that come from both of them make him shiver. 

Benny’s got both his cheeks in a huge hand, pulling them apart until he feels stretched, and he’s alternating between kitten licks and long lazy swipes against Dean’s hole. “Goddamn,” he moans. 

And then he’s not looking down at the hardwood floor anymore. Benny’s pulling him back by his thighs and his knees settle under him. Realizes his ass is now eye level with Benny and oh God. 

His thighs are burning with the scratch and scrape of Benny’s beard, his cock hangs heavy and weeping between his legs. The red fingerprints he was hoping for are probably going to be hand shaped bruises and it’s all so good. He has to bite his forearm when Benny dips his tongue inside and fucks him with quick little darts inside and out, pauses to suck at his rim. 

Dean’s vaguely aware that he’s incoherently babbling, mixtures of Benny’s name and variations of  _fuck_  in a near constant stream. He manages to get his balance enough to reach a hand to his cock but Benny slaps it away and grips it instead. 

It takes only a few strokes until he comes with a muffled groan, swaying precariously on the table. Gentle hands help him down and he has to lay there for a minute, breathing hard and shivering with cooling sweat. “Holy fuck,” he croaks. 

He turns over to see Benny with his hand down his pants, eyes glazed as he takes Dean in. A little wiggling down and he’s got his feet on the floor, hands hovering over Benny’s zipper. 

"Can I…?"

Benny’s nodding hard and Dean wastes no time getting his hands around his gorgeously thick cock. He doesn’t have the benefit of Benny’s oiled hands but he’s uncut and less than a minute later, he’s coming all over Dean’s hand. 

They clean up quietly but catch each other’s eye every so often and grin. Dean’s back in his button down and tie, silver belt buckle gleaming, and he reaches into his jacket pocket. 

"Best massage I’ve ever had," he tells Benny, and hands him a card. "All my information. Call me sometime." 

He turns and walks out, shooting a wave at the girl behind the front desk as he goes by. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s back to the office, getting out of the elevator and Nancy lifts a dark brow. “You look like that massage did you a world of good. Didn’t I tell you Benny was the best? I swear, all those knots in my neck are gone after he gets at them!”

"I’ll never doubt you again," he winks at her. Yes, he does feel much more relaxed. And he can’t keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day. The smile turns smug when he gets in his car at the end of the day and sees a text message from an unfamiliar number. 

_Dean, this is Benny. Drinks sometime?_

He's still smiling as he taps out a reply and hits Send. How _about tonight?_


End file.
